


Forever and Always Mine

by sparkeythehamster



Series: Shipping Challenge [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Men of Letters, Mick Davies is alive, One Shot, mentions of the academy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:14:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24806797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparkeythehamster/pseuds/sparkeythehamster
Summary: He’d made a decision, one he would have to stand by for the rest of his, presumably short life. Suspicion had fallen on Mick, he’d failed to obey protocol on more than one occasion now, and Arthur knew that the old men were starting to speculate about his own lose affiliation with the Winchesters as well.Mick had been given a final chance by Hess to toe the line. The old Mick Davies would have thanked her for it, hung his head in respect and promised to follow her every command. Like many of the children who had been brought into the programme the same way as Mick, The Elders saw them as amusing pets. To be rewarded when they were good but disposed of the moment they ceased to offer any useful purpose. It didn’t matter that Mick was brighter, sharper, and more diligent than any other agent they had. As far as Hess was concerned, he was dispensable.Arthur had made his decision on the spur of the moment. The slightest mistake and it would have been his own head on the chopping block.
Relationships: Mick Davies/Arthur Ketch
Series: Shipping Challenge [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1787848
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	Forever and Always Mine

**Author's Note:**

> The third fic in my challenge and the last of the Supernatural ones.

He’d made a decision, one he would have to stand by for the rest of his, presumably short life. Suspicion had fallen on Mick, he’d failed to obey protocol on more than one occasion now, and Arthur knew that the old men were starting to speculate about his own lose affiliation with the Winchesters as well.

Mick had been given a final chance by Hess to toe the line. The old Mick Davies would have thanked her for it, hung his head in respect and promised to follow her every command. Like many of the children who had been brought into the programme the same way as Mick, The Elders saw them as amusing pets. To be rewarded when they were good but disposed of the moment they ceased to offer any useful purpose. It didn’t matter that Mick was brighter, sharper, and more diligent than any other agent they had. As far as Hess was concerned, he was dispensable.

Arthur had made his decision on the spur of the moment. The slightest mistake and it would have been his own head on the chopping block.

Driving on through the night he could still feel the way Mick’s body had tensed for just a moment when the cold barrel of the silencer had been pressed against the back of his head.

Of course, he’d prepared for such an eventuality. With the way Mick had been carrying on, Arthur was only surprised it had taken The Elders this long to send someone. The whole situation in America had been a disaster from the start, thing things the Hunters dealt with here made old Blighty look like the kiddy’s swimming pool.

The relic in his pocket was something he’d picked up in the Middle East. As he had never been very good at magic, Arthur had opted to keep the little pebble a secret. He’d been planning to use it if he’d ever found himself in Mick’s place. The man who had given it to him had explained that it could only be used once, and Arthur had just wasted it on an idiot who had dug himself into a hole because he was utterly incapable of lying to Hess with a straight face.

Arthur didn’t pray. He was sure as Hell that God was out there somewhere, but Arthur had never been one to beg.

His cold heart shivered in its icy casing; his mind blank as he remembered squeezing the trigger with one hand and tightening his fist around the Rune of Amarath in the other.

Mick had dropped to the ground. Arthur hadn’t seen the expression on his face, but he still hoped that it had been good enough for Hess.

Flicking on the left indicator, Arthur kept his expression tight. A part of him wanted to turn the gun on himself for such a bad error of judgement. He and Mick had grown up together, and to some extent Arthur had always been somewhat fond of him. Hess had given him that task as a test, and he’d failed.

Pulling into the motel carpark, Arthur stopped the car in one of the designated spots and pushed open the driver’s seat door, eyes scanning the darkness as he made his way round to the boot. The place was deserted, save for a middle-aged woman sitting behind the distant check-in counter with her nose buried in a magazine.

“Bloody Hell.” Mick sat up the moment the boot had been open, taking a deep breath and shaking out his arms. “How long has it been? I feel like I’ve been in here for hours.”

“An hour” Arthur replied, tone steeled as he stood aside to allow Mick to climb out by himself. “We need to get moving again tomorrow. My aim is to ensure it takes the old men as long as possible to figure out that you’re still alive.” It was an inconvenience to him, but at the same time Arthur knew it was his own fault. If he’d just shot Mick in the back of the head like he was supposed to, then there would be no risk, and Mick would have be dead, so he wouldn’t have needed anyone to watch his back either. Even if he shot Mick now, the old men would know he’d disobeyed his initial orders.

He waited, watching as Mick stood awkwardly by the car, his own eyes travelling through the darkness to check for anyone who might have followed them. “Thanks for… well, not shooting me.”

The flicker of a smile on Arthur’s lips was a formality. Inside a war still raged.

“Wait here” he ordered, leaving Mick by the car as he headed to the reception office to check-in for the night. One bed, he didn’t want his expenses to raise any red flags, Mick could have it, he’d keep watch by the window.

At least Mick had the sense to stay out of sight, so when the receptionist leaned round him to check where his car had been parked, the other man had vanished. Perhaps he wasn’t a complete idiot then, just an emotional fool.

Keys in hand, Arthur returned to the car, finding Mick sitting beside the back wheel. Checking to make sure the woman at reception had returned her attention to her magazine, he reached down and gave Mick’s arm a tug. Pulling him to his feet, Arthur dragged Mick towards door number six, unlocking it, before throwing the slighter man into the ugly interior of the motel room.

It was small and cramped, and a flick of the light revealed the hideous striped green wallpaper and a dull brown carpet that lined the room.

Standing beside the closed door, Ketch watched as Mick explored the room, stretching and rotating his limbs. He looked dishevelled, dark hair a haphazard mess, white unstained shirt crumpled.

The blood, the gunshot wound, they had all been illusions caused by the rune, holding together just long enough to satisfy Hess before she’d given him orders to discretely dispose of the body. The plan had entirely relied on Mick knowing to drop to the ground when Arthur fired the blank from the gun. That was the reason he’d given him that brief warning with the barrel of the silencer before firing.

Mick had never been one of the smartest dressed men that Arthur had met, but his hair was usually in descent shape. Right now, in his current state of mind, Mick’s totally chaotic appearance was starting to aggravate him.

He didn’t have to say anything, Mick stopped moving the moment he heard Arthur take a step forward. Bright blue eyes widened as the taller man approached, but Mick stayed perfectly still, allowing Arthur to tower over him as he made a valiant attempt to fix his hair.

Not entirely satisfied, but feeling better having tried, Arthur dropped his hands to Mick’s shoulders, moving him slightly to get a better look at his work before giving a small half-hearted shrug and releasing him.

“Get some sleep. We’re leaving early tomorrow.” Attempting to shift his focus away from the other man, Arthur singled out the most comfortable looking chair and began pulling it towards the window, making sure he had a good view of the motel’s entrance and reception building.

He sensed that Mick hadn’t moved but ignored it in the hope that the other man would eventually just do as he’d asked.

“Where are we going?” Mick’s emotions were always painfully obvious. Right now, Arthur could hear a mixture of confusion, curiosity, and caution. Even though Arthur knew that Mick was right for not letting his guard down, he still couldn’t help but feel offended. He’d risked everything to save the other man, his job, his life, even one of his own escape plans, and yet Mick still didn’t trust him.

“ _You_ are going to Canada” Arthur informed him firmly, “I have a discrete connection that can get you in and sort out the documentation you need. You are to stay there, keep a low profile and never return to the UK or the United States. Understood.” It wasn’t a question.

The springs of the bed shifted, and even though Arthur knew it was a bad idea, he turned his head to fix Mick with another steely glare. The other man was pulling off his shoes, organising them neatly at the foot of the bed. “So, I’m just supposed to stay in Canada? What about Sam and Dean, what about the Hunters?”

“What about them?” Setting his teeth, Arthur fought the urge to throw Mick back in the boot and continue driving until they reached the border.

Mick gaped at him. “You heard Hess, they’re in danger I have to…”

“You have to go to Canada” Arthur reiterated. He allowed his fists to clench and unclench, mindful of his temper and impulse control. He knew it was pointless smiling at Mick, the other man knew he didn’t mean it, but he did it anyway. Sighing heavily, he gave the view one final check before dropping down onto the bed next to Mick. He needed to make sure the other man understood – that he _really_ understood – how much danger they were both in. “What do you think the old men will do if they find out that you’re still alive?”

Mick’s gaze dropped, lips tightening in silence.

“I have risked everything to keep you alive. You dug yourself a hole and then proceeded to bury yourself in it, I could have left you to drown but I didn’t. _I did that_. Not Sam and Dean Winchester. You owe them nothing.”

Perhaps it was irrelevant, but Arthur couldn’t help but feel another rumble of irritation in his chest. He’d saved Mick, and all he could do was whine about the Winchesters.

The other man’s expression shifted, eyes narrowing as his emotions gave way to something new. Suspicion.

“Why did you?” His eyes had returned to Arthur’s, so much brighter than his own clear-cut hazel. He wasn’t tense or giving any warning signs that he was about to run, but that caution that Arthur had detected earlier had now given way to the forefront.

Frowning, the first true expression he’d given anyone that day, Arthur replied honestly. “I don’t know.”

They stayed like that, eyes interlocked, sizing the other up.

Arthur eventually broke the contact. He had better things to do than explain his reasoning. Returning to the window, he pulled back the curtains just enough to allow him to perform another thorough scan of the carpark.

“Do you remember the academy?”

Letting out another frustrated sigh, Arthur closed his eyes in exasperation. “Of course, I do.” Why couldn’t Mick just settle down and go to sleep like Arthur wanted him to.

“You persuaded me to skip ancient languages to hang out on the grounds. Someone spotted us, and instead of warning me, you just took off and left me to take all the punishment.” Mick chuckled in a way that seemed entirely inappropriate considering he’d been thrashed by the headmaster and locked in his room for two days. They’d only been thirteen or fourteen at the time, but Arthur had been hit enough times in that ghastly place to know that the memory didn’t leave you. “That Arthur probably would have just shot me in the head. Hell, I expected you to shoot me in the head, even after you pulled the trigger I thought for a moment that I must be dead.”

The rustle of bedding and springs told Arthur that Mick was back on his feet, and when he turned away from the window, he wasn’t surprised to find the other man standing beside him.

Without any shoes Mick looked almost a full inch shorter than usual.

“I’ll go to Canada, but…” He used that tone he always employed when he was trying to sound authoritative, and despite everything it amused Arthur just as much as it always did. “…when the day comes, and the gun is pointing at your head, promise you’ll join me.”

The request caught Arthur a little off-guard.

“Alternatively, if it becomes safe to return to the States then you have to come and get me.”

This seemed very unlikely, but even Arthur could feel his frigid heart warming at the sight of that ridiculous stubborn pout. The smile that passed across his eyes was only present for a few moments, but the light happiness reflected in Mick’s confirmed that that other man seen it.

“If I promise then you’ll do everything I say?” Perhaps there was a tone there that Arthur had not intended to use, he’d once been told that his voice sounded suggestive by nature.

Mick tilted his head to one side, concentrating as he did his best to read the so-called ‘psychopath’s’ blank expression.

“I promise.”

Mick’s promise had been pure but came without expectation. He had asked for nothing and refused nothing, and yet something flicked in Arthur’s head. He surged forward, cupping Mick’s narrow jaw in his hand as he pulled him into a rough and forceful kiss. The hold was just light enough to allow Mick to pull away if he wanted to. Arthur told himself he was ready to let go if Mick rebuked him, but the slighter man’s long fingers slipped tightly around the back of Arthur’s neck, drawing him closer to deepen the kiss.

He was straining to reach. A part of Arthur wanted to allow the smaller man to struggle for a little bit longer, but the heat that was pooling at the bottom of his stomach demanded urgency. Using his second hand to cradle Mick’s waist, Arthur backed onto the chair by the window, pulling the other man onto his lap. Mick made a sound caught between a gasp and a moan, causing Arthur to tighten his grip.

Mick didn’t complain when Arthur nipped at his lower lip, or when he sunk his teeth into the pale white skin of his neck.

With one eye still on the window, Arthur marked the man who was forever and always, his.


End file.
